Sephiroth Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by AnnaDruvez
Summary: Harry remembers his life as Sephiroth. It should make things easier for him, right? But the slightest change can make things so much worse. New and old allies surface, as do current and ancient enemies. But, are the enemies of my enemies my friends? Or are they still enemies? Rated for language, blood, violence, teen awkwardness and anything else that might be in here.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer_**

_If I owned this, I wouldn't write it for free._

**_Still Amazed_**

_From 5 pm on the 25th October to 11.59 pm on the 27th October, Sephiroth Potter and the Goblet of Fire received the following: 1446 views combined on AO3 and FFN, 19 reviews, 2 C2s, 43 favorites, 52 followers (story), 12 followers (author), 1 Kudos, 1 Bookmark. At noon today (28th October), views had reached a total of 1786. In addition, another favorite and follower for the story popped up. I am in awe, especially as more keep coming in._

_Again, thank you all._

* * *

**One**

Harry James Potter was less than pleased. He had been entered into the Tri-Wizard tournament. He had out flown a dragon, rescued the fair maiden from the lake (Okay, it was Ron. Still...), and emerged victorious from the maze. He had regained the memories of his past life and defeated Voldemort for what he was sure was only the latest of many times.

But, the Headmaster insisted that he return to his Aunt's abode. There was no commentary on how or why he had the authority to insist that he do so. He simply commanded and all those around him obeyed. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say the man had all of his friends under the Imperius Curse.

Well, at least he was fairly certain the old coot didn't...

Now, he was sitting in the park. It wasn't exactly a pretty place, though the sun was shining. It was, at best, a rectangle full of dirt and weeds with the occasional swing set and bench. He wasn't outside the house to enjoy it, however. He was out here to avoid dealing with the Dursleys. He snorted. His grand goal for the summer: avoidance.

Part of him did marvel over the number of weeds around him. There wasn't much, but it was still more than Sephiroth had ever seen in Midgar. In that foul city – if there was a patch of land with no concrete or metal covering it – there was only dirt to be found. Flowers, grass and weeds alike all avoided the place.

Speaking of avoidance. Dudley Dursley and friends were approaching from the south. He was getting sick and tired of dealing with the lot of them. Harry Hunting when he was a young child was bad enough but, these days, they taunted him with things that they had no frame of reference to understand. If it wasn't his hair, it was his eyes or his newly graceful movements. They were absolutely certain that he was trying to be a girl. He was absolutely certain that he would kill them all if he didn't leave soon.

The arguments for a grisly murder or three were quickly outpacing the arguments against.

He sat on his swing and listened to their taunts. At least they could only tease him about surface qualities. He'd discovered that he now spoke his first life's native language when sleeping. Or, rather, he'd had it angrily pointed out that he was 'talking gibberish' by his abruptly woken and furious uncle a few nights after he arrived.

As he sat there pondering the necessity for keeping the unrelated whale that his aunt married alive, he failed to notice the park growing colder and the sky darkening. It was brought to his attention when Dudley suddenly broke off and demanded to know what he was doing to cause it. He glanced around and cocked his head curiously. That felt like... a dementor? Or, maybe, more than one?

Harry, determined to deal with the problem quickly and quietly, just rolled his eyes. "Shut up and go home. Unless you want to deal with the latest attempt to kill me."

"W-what?"

"Every other weird thing in my life has been a roundabout method of trying to murder me." He snarked at the boy. "Why should this be any different?"

"K-kill you?"

"Yes. Kill me." Dudley's friends had run off. A fact that they both noticed at the same time. Harry frowned. "Come on. We need to get inside."

They ran. Dudley was nowhere near as fast as Harry, but Harry slowed down a bit to keep the boy near. He may mentally contemplate the idea of killing his last remaining relatives, but he wasn't going to let anything else do the job for him. He'd earned the right to do it himself through eleven hard years of slavery and sleeping in a cupboard.

They were going under a bridge when he realized that there was a dementor at the other end of the passage. He turned to lead Dudley back out and down another path, but a second dementor had boxed them in. He assessed the situation quickly. "Stay close."

Dudley was either gaining a sensible streak or scared out of his mind. Considering the sharp stench of fresh urine, Harry was willing to be it was the latter. Still, the boy didn't argue when Harry backed him towards one concrete support wall and positioned himself in front of him. Dudley wasn't even gibbering or trying to blame Harry for it, now.

That alone worried him, but he would have to think about treating his cousin's shock later. He couldn't use his wand on these things. It was illegal. Logically, there should be a self-defense clause. However, this was the government and bureaucracy was seldom logical.

Adrenaline raced through his veins, forced through by his pounding heart. Part of him was afraid. Part of him, however, was exhilarated. He'd been spoiling for a good fight.

He lifted his left arm and fire flew towards the dementor on that side. The Firaga was nowhere near as overpowered as the one he'd thrown in the maze less than a month before. It was still enough to take down the attacker with a single hit. He brought his hand back down and curled it around empty air. A moment later, Masamune materialized in his fist.

His Firaga had set the stones alight on that side of the passage, so the dementors – the three of them remaining – approached from his right. He felt the memories of the past threaten to overwhelm him, but he pushed them aside with the discipline that he'd used to overwhelm and dominate Jenova after his first death in the reactor. He would submit to no one.

He moved forward quickly, enacting a trick he'd learned from Genesis. Fire wrapped the blade of his sword and his hand flicked faster than the eye could see. The first dementor fell to the ground, split neatly in twain and smoking. The other two withdrew slightly in surprised fear.

He let the smirk play across his lips. "Let's play."

It took four slices of his blade to drop the remaining dementors, mostly because they dodged far better now that they weren't expecting him to be incapacitated. He looked down on their corpses and surveyed the area one last time. There were no more coming, apparently. He let go of the katana and it vanished.

He returned to Dudley. The pig had slid down the wall when his legs gave out beneath him. The increasing stench indicated that his cousin had added fecal matter to his already urine soaked trousers. Dudley's tear filled eyes stared up at him. "W-what.. What was t-that?"

Harry sighed, letting his battle ready state fade. "Dementors, Dud. Nasty things. I don't know why someone hasn't wiped them all out." He hauled him to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"I-I think?"

A gesture had the fire dying down to nothing. He turned to take Dudley home, only to see Mrs. Figg standing there. "Don't put your wand away, Harry. There might be more."

He raised an eyebrow. Huh. She knew about magic. One of Dumbledore's people? It would make sense to have observers nearby, though he'd never have pegged her for a Turk. "That would be more of a concern if I had used my wand to dispatch them. If you'll excuse me, we must be getting back to the house."

He left her standing there, gaping, as he pulled Dudley along.

Arriving back at the Dursley's was a hassle in and of itself. The so-called adult portion of the family was trying to pin the blame for Dudley's state on him. He wasn't going to have it, but he knew that raising his voice would get him nothing except a sore throat. A flick of his wrist and a Stop spell held them silent and immobile. "I did not cause Dudley's condition. Had I not been with him tonight, you would have a son missing a soul. As for taking him to the hospital, it is not necessary. All he needs is a bath and some chocolate."

He turned to take Dudley upstairs, but paused to look back. "The spell should wear off in a few minutes. I suggest that you don't attempt anything. This is me being nice."

He had just managed to feed his cousin some chocolate and persuade him to bathe alone when he noticed the first of many owls at the window. A quick glance at the contents of the letter it carried was enough to make him chuckle. He didn't use his wand or any form of magic that they were familiar with, and the only people who saw were in the know. Not that he'd fight them on it. If they took his wand, they'd discover just what he could do without one.

A few minutes later, he had collected a stack of parchment from the Ministry, Dumbledore and others. He rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's loopy writing. Don't go anywhere? Like he was safe here? The events of the evening did seem to have proven otherwise.

Still, if he could survive Shin-Ra's Science Department, he could survive here for a little longer.

He checked on Dudley one last time, who seemed much better for the chocolate, and retired to his room. He secured the door, propping the rickety desk chair under the handle. It wouldn't do much to deter a wizard or an angry Vernon, but it would at least give him enough warning to be armed and ready. He settled – above the worn blanket as he'd discovered that he overheated much more easily these days – on the creaky bed and let his eyes drift shut.

It felt like seconds later that he opened his eyes. His senses, however, indicated that it was much later than that. The house and the houses around them were quiet. His enhanced hearing picked up few noises other than the meanderings of nighttime creatures. The window was open, though it had been closed when he dozed off. There was a breeze, warm and slightly damp, drifting across him. His nose... caught the scent of smoke and apples?

He turned his head. Sitting cross-legged on the desk, as the chair was unavailable, was a figure in a red coat. Medium-length ginger hair framed a delicate face. A red-bladed, basket hilted claymore rested on the man's knees. In his hand was an half-eaten apple. A Golden Delicious, if Harry wasn't mistaken. The man took another bite, humming in pleasure.

"Genesis."

Juice-moistened lips tugged up in a smirk. "Sephiroth."

He nearly groaned, recognizing the playful side of his oldest friend. Then, he realized that Genesis – _Genesis –_ was alive, healthy and sitting in his room. Genesis Rhapsodos, drama queen and swordsman, was sitting on his desk. He was alive to be mischievous. He was breathing. Gaia and Chaos, he was even happy to hear him chew!

Sephiroth had never been one for physical displays of affection. That was probably because touch was a bad thing to anyone raised as an experiment. Harry, on the other hand, had been starved of almost any touch – good or bad – until he'd met the Weasley family. One summer with Molly was enough to cure anyone of that aversion. She handed out hugs like stock brokers passed out cards.

"Oof!" Genesis' arms flailed a bit as Harry latched onto him. He barely managed to keep his apple and Rapier – his sword – from falling to the floor. Thin but steel-strong bands tightened around the red-headed SOLDIER. His face was buried in soft, silver hair and the scent of ice and leather overwhelmed his sense of smell.

Harry was shocked and more than a little embarrassed. On one hand, he'd desperately wanted to hug the man. On the other, this was something that the two of them had never – ever – done. He'd never seen Angeal and Genesis come in contact beyond the occasional pat on the back and they'd known each other far longer than he'd known them.

Nurse each other through Mako poisoning after injections? Sure. Have banter-laced arguments while showering in the SOLDIER barracks after a particularly strenuous workout? Of course, if they couldn't argue then there was something wrong. But hug? If they'd made a list of embarrassing actions, that would probably have been at the top of it. It didn't help that he had no idea how to extricate himself now that he was there.

He dropped his arms and backed away like he was burned, searching for something to say. He wanted to scream, to cry, to fall to his knees and thank all the Greater and Lesser deities that Genesis was here. He did none of these things. "That apple is not a Banora White."

Genesis, still wide-eyed, recovered enough to snort. "There are no more Banora Whites."

"You must have been heartbroken." He settled back on his bed and shot the man a teasing grin. "I still don't know what you saw in them."

"I'll have you know, O Great General Sephiroth, that they were the finest example of apple that ever existed." Even Genesis couldn't hold the offended look for long. They both broke out in quiet laughter.

Harry got himself under control and smiled. "It's Harry, now. Harry Potter."

Genesis paused in thought for a moment, then shook his head. His vivid blue eyes had a teasing glint to them. "No. I cannot bring myself to call you by something so plebeian. Though, I do like the new accent. It adds an element of class that you were always missing."

Harry sighed. "You are impossible. You do know that, Gen?"

One red eyebrow raised at the new nickname, but he let it slide. "If that were the case, then I would not exist. As it is, the evidence is right in front of you."

He groaned. "How did you get out of the Lifestream, anyway?..." His eyebrows drew together. "Come to think of it, I don't remember ever seeing you there."

Genesis shrugged. "I wasn't. I... Well, it was an odd sort of stasis. I broke out of it briefly, for a time, but re-entered it when I discovered that I wasn't needed. I've only been awake for a few months now – just after midwinter, I believe."

"How did you find me?"

Genesis smiled. "During the stasis, the majority of the JENOVA cells were purged from my body. I still retain the powers I gained from them, however. That includes the ability to sense anyone with Her cells in them. I was curious to see if I was the only one, so I looked for the strongest concentration of them that I could find and came to investigate."

Harry frowned. "Are there any others?"

"It's hard to explain. I imagine that you're sensing it, too." He cocked his head. "There are... patches that are coming together and then separating. It's like someone – or several someones – are trying to return."

Harry nodded. "Good to know I'm not the only one feeling it. There are fluctuations in the Lifestream that support that, too. I wonder who's coming..."

A creak sounded through the house and both froze. Harry would know that noise anywhere. Their conversation had woken Uncle Vernon. His sleep-roughened shout echoed down the hallway. "BOY!"

He winced and looked at Genesis. "You should go. It's going to take forever to calm him down."

The Crimson Commander shook his head doubtfully. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and handle him?"

Harry snorted. "No thanks. I don't need whatever stupidity he'll come up with in regards to a strange man in my room at this time of night. Though, if you were here to murder me, he might just be willing to help. We'll talk later. Meet me tomorrow in the park down the street."

Genesis nodded and fled through the open window. Harry took a deep breath, let it out and went to deal with his Uncle.

* * *

In a darkened forest, Voldemort tossed the last of the required ingredients in a giant cauldron. It was an odd recipe, old and quite likely to leave him with a hideous appearance. Still, it would increase his power by at least a factor of ten, even if it didn't counter the blood protection Evans had left on her son. Judging by the last encounter with the Potter boy, he would need the boost in casting strength.

He lifted the deteriorating hand of the possessed muggle to turn the page in the potions book. He reviewed it carefully - Nundu Saliva for disease immunities, Dementor bone for the fear effect, Dragon Scale for spell resistance and power, Fertile Earth because he wanted to have at least the possibility of an heir, and the Blood from his remaining followers to bind their families, make him heir to their lines and provide a human body. All the ingredients were properly prepared and added. The potion was the correct color and consistency. He was ready.

He stepped back and sucked the remaining life force from the body he was in. It collapsed to the ground and he floated up from it, only to dive into the blood-colored potion. He shrieked as it burned through him, feeling as if his very soul were caught in the fires of hell. A few moments and an eternity later, he rose from the cauldron.

He stepped out and onto the hard-packed earth, naked and sparing not even a glance for the corpse just a few feet away. He felt energized, alive in a way that he'd forgotten was possible. A wave of his hand had a mirror conjured to his left. His lips curved at the idea of never again needing a wand.

He investigated himself. Human in shape, he showed evidence of far more muscle than he'd had in his first life. His skin was fish-belly gray. His eyes were now an almond or feline shape, though they were still his distinctive blood-red. Delicate eyebrows arched gracefully above them, adding the finishing touch to his now fine-boned face.

He had raven hair on his head and in the appropriate locations on his body. Where he didn't have hair, there was a scale pattern on his skin. Closer examination revealed this to be pigmentation, not actual scales. Small, delicate-seeming claws graced his hands and feet. His gaze was drawn to his upper thighs and he chuckled at the size enhancement to a certain part of his anatomy that he had previously found... lacking. Feeling something sharp, he drew his upper lip back to reveal his lengthened incisors and canines.

A nearby squirrel caught his attention and he stiffened. His eyes glowed slightly and he opened his mouth. He sucked _something_ in and the squirrel dropped to the ground, even as more power flooded his system. He blinked down at the dead creature for a few moments before smiling wickedly. _Well, this is interesting... I wonder what else I can do..._

* * *

_As I said at the end of SPGOF, this is going to have slower updates. I'm only halfway through typing the second chapter, and I want to make it perfect for you. So, please, be patient with me. This is going to be quite a bit longer, so I'm going to aim for weekly updates this time._

_And, really, Harry gets a power up and no one suspected that I would give one to Voldie? A Hero needs a Villain that tests his limits, after all..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**

_If I owned this, I wouldn't write it for free._

**Note**

_This chapter was going to be longer – yes, I said longer – but I got a bad tooth pulled and I can barely bring myself to do anything at the moment. I don't think that the dentist gave me a decent painkiller, much less a good one. At any rate..._

**Amazing Things**

_Over 4000 hits for GOF, almost 700 for OotP. 7 C2s, more than 60 favorites and followers... Wow. I am in awe._

* * *

Two

The sun was high in the sky when Harry finally made it to the park. Genesis was sitting on the back of a bench, his feet on the seat. He had an apple in hand and was paging slowly through a tattered copy of Loveless. Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his oversized jeans and smiled. Genesis never changed. "Good afternoon."

Genesis looked up, then tucked the book in one of his coat pockets. "Sephiroth. This place is truly dreary." He looked around. "I didn't think anywhere was more depressing than Midgar."

Harry chuckled. "At least there's grass. I rather like that."

Genesis nodded. "I still remember you lamenting the lack of green in Midgar. What was it you said? 'Proof that humans existed to destroy?'"

"Hmm." Harry's eyes zoned out as memories unfurled. "I hated those days. Now I rather miss them."

Genesis frowned and his eyes became shuttered. "Angeal..."

"Indeed." Harry shook off the approaching depression. "Do you suppose he's trying to re-form?"

"It's possible."

"We can hope." Harry grinned. "As you always quoted at us, 'Even if the morrow is barren of promises...'"

"'Nothing shall forestall my return.'" Genesis smiled at him.

Harry plopped himself down on the park bench next to Genesis' feet. He leaned his head on the man's knee, amused at the clearly broadcast surprise – both in scent and muscle tension. "So, what do you have planned for the rest of the summer? For that matter, where are you sleeping at night?"

Genesis took a bite of his apple, a Macintosh today, and chewed for a moment. "I don't have much by way of plans. As for sleeping, there's an abandoned warehouse several miles to the south of here. It's warm enough to suffice for the moment and there is an emergency shower inside that still has water access, though there's no heat for the water."

"Hm." Harry thought for a moment. That really wasn't acceptable. He wouldn't let any of his men suffer under those conditions inside a city, let alone one of his oldest friends. He looked up at the redhead. "Let's go to London. I can get you some local cash and I know an excellent place to stay."

"As you will, General."

Harry laughed at Genesis' teasing smile. "I have missed you so much, my friend."

* * *

It didn't take them long to slip into Gringott's and then set Genesis up with a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Whether it was due to his slotted materia or an innate ability of some sort, the Crimson Commander was able to see through the muggle repelling wards on the building. Harry was relieved, as that made things a bit easier. He spent the afternoon filling Genesis in on the changes to the world and detailing the majority of his future itinerary, such as Hogwarts in the fall.

Genesis was certain that he'd have no trouble finding Hogsmeade, since he'd just follow the echo of Harry's JENOVA cells.

By the time Harry returned to Privet Drive, it was almost the Dursleys' bedtime. He didn't complain about having spent the day away from them. They seemed pleased by it as well. In fact, his Aunt and Uncle seemed more disappointed at his having returned than anything else.

Dudley, on the other hand, seemed grateful that he was back. The reason for this quickly became apparent. The next day, when the boy wanted to go out, he demanded that Harry stay with him the entire time. He told his parents that it was so he could 'keep an eye on the freak.' Harry was well aware that he was just scared to go out alone.

Harry felt a small stab of sympathy and a bit of remorse, as Dudley's fear was partially his fault. So, he didn't call him on it. Instead, he placed himself at his cousin's disposal for the day. In return, Dudley kept his friends from accosting him. Whether that was for Harry's safety or theirs was highly debatable.

The day passed in a mix of amusement at the thwarted bullies and boredom. Dudley's activities were hardly able to be classified as interesting. Especially since the rotund boy stopped himself from doing anything that Harry might disapprove of. Harry wondered if it was possible to shape his cousin's personality into something more socially acceptable, but he dismissed the thought. Vernon would no doubt put a stop to any attempts to do so the moment his back was turned.

They returned home and he escaped to his room, having eaten with Dudley while they were out. He lay on his bed and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. There wasn't much else to do. It wasn't like he could practice his sword forms in the cramped area, and he wasn't certain enough of his return to Hogwarts to waste his time studying wanded magic. Instead, he meditated and focused in on the Jenova cells he could sense.

There were at least two large clusters, possibly more, that were in the process of forming into functional bodies. He couldn't tell who it was, but one mass was large enough to possibly become Angeal. The other was the right mass to be Cloud, Zack or any number of SOLDIER Seconds or Thirds. He gave a frustrated growl at his inability to narrow it down further.

A disquieting thought occurred and he promised that he would send Hojo back to the Lifestream himself. If it was him, that is.

One of the Dursleys – Vernon this time – banged on his door to announce they were leaving and not to get up to any funny stuff. The lock turned and Harry shrugged. It wasn't like he couldn't escape if he really wanted to. A flimsy door was no barrier to someone of his talents.

He stared at the ceiling for a few more moments, listening to the noises of the family leaving. He closed his eyes again and slipped into some of the Wutaian meditations that had always calmed and centered him in the past. _Water quenches the thirst of wood. Wood fuels the fire. Fire creates earth. __Earth bears metal. Metal carries water... Water extinguishes fire. Fire melts metal. Metal slices wood. Wood controls earth. Earth absorbs water..._

Hours later, he honestly couldn't tell just how many, he heard a crashing noise on the first floor. It was swiftly followed by muttered curses. His eyes snapped back open. He wasn't certain if it was burglars or wizards. Still, it was best to be prepared. Silent movements carried him to the door. A twitch of his left hand had a spell prepared – Confu, an underestimated magic that frequently made enemies turn upon each other. He waited...

The lock turned, but he stayed his hand as a familiar scent accosted his nose. It was wild, untamed and raging. It was calm, wrapped in leather bound books and parchment. He let the spell dissipate and stepped back. Whoever they were, Remus Lupin was with them and didn't smell like he'd been coerced.

The first through the door was 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Harry's nose twitched, but there was no scent of Polyjuice. There was... _Firewhiskey and prunes? What an interesting combination. _The old Auror's eye twirled restlessly in his socket as he half stomped, half-dragged his wooden leg across the floor.

After him, was Lupin, his graying brown hair framed his lined face and almost matched his worn second-hand robes. He looked well. Harry knew that was just because it was the halfway point between Full Moons. In two weeks, the werewolf would be miserable again.

Behind Lupin was a girl – woman – wearing a Weird Sisters shirt. Her hair was not designed to stand out, though it changed even as he watched. As did her eye color and the shape of her features – just slightly. _Hm. A metamorph of some sort._

"Auror Moody. Professor Lupin. Lovely lady." Her hair changed to a blushing pink at his greeting, matching her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit after no communication all summer?"

Lupin smirked in amusement, even as the woman muttered that her name was 'Tonks.'

Moody just huffed. "I wasn't your professor, Potter. I didn't even get to teach one class, remember? As it is, we're here to get you out of here."

Harry shook his head. "So, you come by night like thieves. Worse yet, you sneak into the home of a man that has spent the last several months pondering his safety in the wake of an attempt on his life. Did it occur to none of you that it might be a good idea to let me know you were coming? Or at least to _knock?"_

Moody shook his head. "Operational security..."

Harry cut him off. "...is only maintained so long as I didn't hex you - thereby alerting the Ministry – or put a blade in your gut – thereby killing you. If I hadn't realized you were here and recognized the scent of Professor Lupin, you would have deserved everything you received."

Moody's remaining eye sharpened. "Scent?"

Harry huffed. "Some of us don't drown our senses in Firewhiskey and prune juice." Moody stepped back a half-step in shock, nearly tripping over one of Dudley's old toys. Harry turned to Lupin. "Let me gather my things and we can be gone in a few minutes."

They watched in silence as he did so. Remus took it upon himself to help him. Moody stood by and pondered the boy's unnaturally good senses while Tonks shot her mentor amused glances. So much for Constant Vigilance!

His things gathered, Harry scrubbed a hand across his face upon realizing that they wanted to use brooms – brooms! – to travel to where ever they were going. "Brooms. You're trying to hide me from magical attack and you want to use magical transport?"

Tonks blinked at him. "Yeah...?"

He resisted the urge to tear his hair out. "Have _none_ of you ever heard of renting a car?"

Moody shot him a glare, but otherwise ignored him. Tonk's and Lupin's amusement was palpable as they climbed on their brooms and took off. Harry spent the majority of the ride wishing that he'd insisted on taking a cab. Though it was a fairly warm summer night, it was freezing being on a broom at high speeds. Even his own innate resistance – inherited from his life as Sephiroth – couldn't negate the biting feel. All it could do was ensure that he wouldn't succumb to frostbite. He was thankful for that, as he knew what frostbite could do to the human body. He just wished his resistances could do more.

_How did I walk across the Great Glacier bare chested again? Oh, right. I was insane... At this rate, I'm going to pop my wing and fly that way. At least then, I'll be getting enough exercise to warm me up a bit!_

After many inexplicable zigs and zags and a few snarked out words between his guides, they landed on soft grass across from a row of houses. He shifted his broom from hand to hand, flexing his fingers to restore circulation in the wake of his tight grip on the handle. The human body was not intended to fly for two hours at upwards of one hundred miles per hour. Especially not without taking any breaks.

A piece of paper was shoved into his hand and he was ordered to read it. He did so, noting the words 'Order of the Phoenix,' then looked up at the row of houses. Number ten and number fourteen were clearly visible. Not so, number twelve. He cocked his head and watched as number twelve slowly appeared after he thought about it. "Interesting magic."

"Hmph." Moody almost ripped the paper out of his hands and set it on fire. Harry just eyed him for a moment at the minor bout of pyromania and let them lead him inside.

He waited until the door was closed before he spoke. "What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

Tonks started to answer, but was cut off by the approaching Molly Weasley. Before he could blink twice, Harry found himself upstairs with Ron and Hermione. They were babbling greetings and apologies at him. He was too busy contemplating Ron's mother and whether or not she was a hidden WEAPON of some sort. She could be wind or sonic-elemental, if her howlers were anything to go by. She certainly had the 'relentless' part of the job description down pat.

He suddenly realized that the room had gone quiet. He looked at his two companions. Hermione was huffy and Ron seemed amused. "Back with us, mate?"

"Indeed. Care to explain why I received no letters by owl, or regular mail? Or, perhaps, a phone call?"

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Dumbledore made us swear not to tell you anything."

"Oh. He did, did he?" Harry took a seat on the only neatly-made bed in the room. "Did he say why?"

Hermione, realizing that he might – just might – be angry at the lack of communication, hesitantly spoke. "He was afraid of it being intercepted?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is that a question or an answer, Hermione?"

She blinked at him, then straightened. She was getting the same feeling she used to get around her stricter teachers in primary. "An answer."

He nodded in acceptance. "So, when did Voldemort start recruiting muggle postmen and telephone technicians?"

Hermione felt sheepish, but wasn't about to let him make her feel guilty quite that easily. "He could have imperio'd the postman."

"And the telephone technicians?"

"Maybe..." She sat down on Ron's bed, heavily. "Oh, Harry... You're right, I could have attempted to use a muggle telephone while I was with my parents. But, they haven't let us out of the house since we got here, there isn't a phone in the house, and they won't let us use the owls."

He smiled, just slightly, but enough to show that her answer was acceptable. "Very well, then. I will assume that none of the incompetents that they had following me at Privet Drive were able – or willing – to pass on a message, either."

Ron blinked at him. "You knew they were there? How? They had cloaks and stuff."

Harry smirked. "I have my ways." _Scent and hearing, my friend. Especially when one of your guards spends half his time drunk. _"Whose house is this?"

Ron sat down next to Hermione. "Black's, mate. And it's a mess. Mum has us cleaning almost constantly. No time to ourselves except for homework."

Harry frowned. There was no way that he was going to spend the rest of his vacation cleaning. If he'd wanted to be treated like a servant or a slave, then he would have stayed at the Dursleys. He raised his voice slightly. "Dobby, Winky, would you join us please?"

Dobby, once the house elf of Lucius Malfoy, appeared almost instantly. Winky, Barty Crouch Senior's dismissed and – in her opinion – disgraced house elf, took a few extra moments to show up. She swayed drunkenly. Dobby was the first to speak. "Great Harry Potter, Sir, what can we's be helping you with?"

Harry slid off the bed and onto the floor, putting his head at Dobby's eye level. "I want to give my godfather a present, Dobby. Could I pay you and Winky to clean this house?"

Winky broke in. "Winky is a proper house elf! Winky doesn't be wanting payings!"

Harry glanced over at Hermione. "What do you want, Winky?"

The elf's tear-filled eyes looked up at him. She hiccuped a few times, then managed to force out. "I's be wanting to belong to a family again."

"B-but that's slavery!" Hermione was aghast.

Harry leaned back against the mattress behind him. She wasn't wrong. Harry had the feeling that there was more to it, however. "Is there a particular reason that a house elf wants to belong to a family, Winky? Dobby?"

Dobby spoke. "Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir. We's be living longer when we's bonded."

Hermione had been getting ready to speak, but her mouth closed with an audible click. Harry couldn't help a slight smile. "How much longer, Dobby?"

"Years and yearses longer." The little elf nodded his head so quickly that Harry was surprised that it didn't pop off. He pretended not to notice Hermione's eyes widening in horror at the thought of the deaths she had inadvertently tried to bring about.

"So, why didn't either of you bond to Hogwarts?" He was genuinely curious. Hogwarts should have been more than enough to satisfy their needs.

"Winky doesn't want to belongs to anything but a proper family and I's be..." Dobby trailed off in apparent embarrassment. Harry gestured for him to continue and the house elf ducked his head shyly. "Dobby wants to be bonded to the Great Harry Potter."

Winky wailed and sobbed into her tea towel. He couldn't be sure precisely what she was saying – her voice was too muffled even for him. If he had to guess, though, she was lamenting Dobby's behavior and her own disgraced status.

Harry shook his head and eyed his little friend. He wasn't sure he wanted to be bonded to any house elf. He was even less sure that he wanted to be bonded to one that had broken his arm, even if it was supposedly for his own good. Still... He did like the little guy and he didn't want him dead. "All right, Dobby. How do I bond you?"

Dobby smiled and Harry felt something snap into place. It was an odd link. It reminded him a little of the JENOVA connection that he had taken over. He could easily dominate them completely through it, though he had no interest in doing so. "Accepting is all that is needing to be done, Master Harry Potter, sir."

He noticed Winky looking at him with tentative hope and sighed. In for a penny... "Winky, if you want me to bond you... then I accept."

He ignored Hermione making inarticulate noises. He knew it would take her a few minutes to process that her view of house elf slavery had been a lie. Maybe now she would focus on treatment standards instead of forcing them to her way of life. He could hope, at least. "Now, would you two be so kind as to get this house looking clean?"

Ron broke in before they could vanish. "There might be a problem with that... Kreature."

Harry looked at him. "Who – or what – is Kreature?"

Ron winced. "The Black family house elf. He's a right piece of work, keeps muttering about mudbloods and blood traitors every time we see him. He hasn't done a lick of work around here, except to hide some of the rubbish we're trying to get rid of."

Harry turned back to the house elves. "Can you take care of yourself if he tries to stop or hurt you?"

They nodded. "Yes, sir, Master Harry Potter, sir."

"I'll leave it to your discretion, then." He nodded at them. "Don't forget to take breaks. Overworking yourselves will just make the job take longer and lead to mistakes."

The little ones bowed and vanished, leaving him alone in the room with his friends. He turned back to them. "So, what is the Order of the Phoenix and what else have I missed?"

They filled him in quickly, explaining that the Order claimed to be an anti-Voldemort group. Their workings were secret, however, so his friends weren't be sure how they fulfilled that function. Ron filled him in on the Ministry's refusal to acquit Sirius, in spite of Pettigrew being in custody. They had him listed as 'an unknown wizard' and Fudge wouldn't let them break out the Veritaserum.

Harry was not amused.

Hermione gave him a quick overview of the Prophet's attempts to make him look unbalanced. Harry wasn't surprised. If the Ministry didn't want him to be heard, then they would do their best to discredit him. He did have to wonder why they still weren't trying to pin the murder of so many upstanding purebloods on him. He supposed he would find out eventually.

Mrs. Weasley summoned them down to dinner, and they headed for the stairs. They reached the landing just in time to see various Order members leaving. Harry didn't know all of them, but he did his best to commit their faces to memory. If they were on his side, supposedly, he shouldn't accidentally kill one the next time he was in combat. He frowned, but decided to reserve judgment on Snape. At least, he would reserve judgment for the moment...

* * *

_Yes, he knows Voldie is still around. Remember, last story he told the shade that he would see him again. He just doesn't know what Voldie has done, yet._

_I also want to comment/clarify a few things... _

_On pairings – I am not setting up a pairing in this particular story. If I manage to keep Voldie alive long enough, I will consider it starting at around his sixteenth year. At the moment, Harry is well aware that he is in the middle of fighting a war and just barely fifteen. He knows better than to make life-altering decisions about his future mate – if there is one – at this point._

_About his interactions with Genesis – This is one of only two friends he had in his first lifetime. Genesis is alive, healthy, and right in front of him. The last Sephiroth knew, he was slowly dying as the cells of his body aged prematurely. _

_Sephiroth was never comfortable with physical contact and avoided it when possible. Harry, on the other hand, has had some. Still, he has seldom - if ever - come in physical contact with an unrelated male. He has all the insecurities of any teenage boy in that regard. Those insecurities include wondering about sexuality – both others' preferences and his own._

_In short: adult Sephiroth + teenage Harry + immense relief + elation = a hug + teenage awkwardness. (And some amusement value for us.)_

_He feels safe with Genesis, so he will slowly start exploring and experimenting with the more socially acceptable forms of contact between friends. He's consciously trying to set aside the fear of contact that the lab experiences – and the Dursleys – have caused. He sees Gen as a fairly safe person to make that attempt with. (He's also finding that shocking Gen is a lot of fun!) He might want to explain that to Gen, though, before he gets the wrong idea..._

_About sensory input – They have enhanced senses and are trained SOLDIERs. That means that they are going to notice things that others would not. They fought together for years. That means that they knew each other inside out and cared for each other in ways that civilians will not. In addition, the effectiveness of any military unit is greatly impacted by the health and welfare of even a single member. Each will pick up on non-verbal cues such as scent, posture and micro expressions. Even the most subtle tone of voice will be used to give some clue as to what the other needs or is feeling about a particular situation._

_About showering together – As recently as a decade ago (when my husband went through Navy boot at Great Lakes), most barracks in boot camp had shared showers. In other words, a long room with shower heads on the walls. There is little or nothing between as a barrier for privacy. I can't see Shin-Ra going to more effort on the expense than our modern military, even for SOLDIERs. Did General Sephiroth have his own room and shower? Of course, he was a General. But, why end a conversation you may be enjoying when you can just tag along to the barracks? Especially if you have no insecurities and/or issues with nudity?_

_About his personality - Being raised in a laboratory as an experiment does not lend itself to any sense of entitlement when it comes to personal privacy. Think about it as a 24/7 exam by a doctor who could care less that you might not want to be poked and prodded at his whim. He would be used to being clinically examined by others. His audience may have been just Hojo, or it might have included a bunch of interns and other scientists. He would be very used to obeying their orders. He would have had to obey even when the order led to pain or seemed pointless. His opinions/feelings would have carried the same weight as those of a lab rat. This is not a healthy environment and has no doubt caused mental scars that I haven't even begun to touch on..._

_At the same time, keep in mind that we have two not-quite-separate personalities involved. Sephiroth is Harry and Harry is Sephiroth. His reactions are sometimes going to lean more towards one life or the other, and sometimes be a mix of the two. It just depends on the situation. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**

_If it were mine, this wouldn't be free._

**Note**

_Certain bits of dialogue in this chapter are taken directly from the book. Where I've remembered, I've marked it with an asterisk (*). Most of it is not, however. I think I actually only used one line, now that I look at it..._

_There is some mild reprimanding of Molly Weasley. This isn't to be construed as bashing – it's more like reminding her that some things simply aren't her responsibility. Also, Ginny makes an appearance. For those who might think I'm bashing her... Having been a fourteen year old girl, we do obsess over our crushes like this at that age. It's not a psychological disorder (yet? maybe?), it's a girl thing._

* * *

**Three**

Tonks, on her way out of the door, tripped over the umbrella stand in the dusty hallway. The sheepish Auror picked herself up, but the noise was enough to wake the dead. Or, in this case, the painting in the hallway. "Mudbloods! Blood traitors! Disgracing the House of Black!"

Sirius took the stairs two at a time, then wrestled the curtains that covered the painting closed. Finally, the harridan was silent and the curtains stilled. He turned to face the group on the landing and smiled. "Hello, Harry. I see you've met my mother."*

Harry found himself grinning and shook his head. "Lovely woman, for a banshee with the tact and subtlety of a nuclear war. Tell me, are you terribly attached to her?"

Sirius blinked. "Not particularly, but she has a permanent sticking charm on the frame. We can't get her off the wall to be rid of her."

Harry's grin turned wicked. "So... You wouldn't mourn the loss of the portrait?"

Sirius shook his head, and Harry clenched his hand around the suddenly appearing Masamune. "Well then, allow me."

The ex-prisoner gaped at the sword, then stepped away from the portrait. Harry flicked the curtains open with the tip of his katana and smiled at the woman inside. She opened her mouth to speak, only to screech in horrified rage as the blade made four quick slices. The canvas peeled away from the frame and fell to the floor, her voice now muffled by the floorboards.

Those who could see what was going on – his friends, Sirius and the few remaining Order members in the foyer – stared in shock as he dropped Masamune. As usual, it vanished before it hit the floor. Harry casually rolled up the canvas and handed it to Sirius with an evil smile. "I'll leave it up to you to dispose of this. Though, I would suggest burning or paint thinner."

Sirius just nodded, still trying to understand how they'd missed such a simple solution.

It was at that point that Kreacher decided to express his own opinion. With a scream of rage, the house elf came flying down the hallway – rusty butcher knife in hand – towards Harry. The others didn't have time to think, much less react. Harry, on the other hand, was used to running on instinct.

A twitch of Harry's fingers had Kreacher's forward momentum slowed to a crawl. In a single motion, he casually plucked the knife out of the house elf's grip and grabbed him by the back of the neck with the other hand. He tossed the knife to the floor and shook the elf gently. "One, never broadcast your attacks. You leave yourself vulnerable. Two, take better care of your weapons. I doubt that thing is still sharp enough to be called a knife. Three, plan your battles more carefully. Assaulting a superior opponent from the front is suicide. Do you understand me, elf?"

Kreacher, in shock from his failed attempt, nodded in what should have been a frantic movement. Thanks to the slow spell, it appeared almost contemplative. Harry dropped him. "Good. I expect your next attempt to have more thought behind it."

Kreacher slunk away to sulk in his nest, for once not even muttering about the people in the house. He was already mentally plotting how to get the 'mean halfblood brat.' Part of the elf was regretful that bad Master Sirius wasn't as cold as the boy. He had the earmarks of a dark pureblood, even if he was tainted. It was too bad he was a half blood.

Meanwhile, Sirius blinked at Harry. The last few minutes had strained his limited ability to process his environment. "His 'next attempt?'"

Harry shrugged. "If you'd prefer, I could decapitate him. However, if I did that, he'd never learn." He started down the stairs. "Food is this way, correct?"

Feeling more than a little unsettled, Molly led the way. She stopped dead in the door and there was a bit of noise as some – mostly Ron – made their objections to the blockade known. After all, if they couldn't get in the kitchen then they couldn't eat. Ron's thoughts didn't always center around food, sometimes it was sleep or female companionship, but at the moment he was hungry and expressed that fact rather loudly.

Molly was, for once, to distracted to care.

She was finally nudged aside by Sirius, who made it only a few steps in before coming to an abrupt halt. His jaw slowly made its way towards his chest as his eyes widened almost beyond anatomical possibility. "W-what happened in here?"

The kitchen was spotless. Not a speck of dirt marred the floor or walls. The wallpaper looked freshly installed, the wood and metal was polished to a high shine and there were lacy bistro curtains on the only window. The food had been moved from the counters and was sitting in the middle of the table, ready to eat. Arthur Weasley was sitting at said table with another disreputable person that was smoking a pipe and staring in shock at an ashtray that had materialized next to him.

Arthur was the only one to respond. "Two house elves just appeared, cleaned, laid out the food and the china, then vanished."

Harry managed to alter his smile so that it appeared happy instead of wickedly amused. "Happy House-Warming, Sirius."

Sirius blinked at him. "Harry?"

"Mm. I arrived and saw what a terrible state the house was in. When Ron told me that you were going to be living here for a prolonged period of time... Well, I know there are all sorts of diseases that can be gotten by living in filth, so I asked Dobby and Winky to take care of it as a gift to you. They were most eager."

He kept his expression happy and sincere only through supreme effort of will. Part of him wanted to cackle evilly at circumventing Molly Weasley's attempt to keep all of her children busy. Not because he saw anything wrong with children doing chores, per se... He just didn't think it was healthy to force them to clean the accumulated grime of more than a decade. Hermione would have asserted that they had breaks for homework, but he didn't see that as a true break.

He'd learned the hard way that people needed to rest – mind and body – or they snapped.

Molly tried to explain that the house would have been perfectly clean very shortly, and that paying the two house elves to do it was a waste of money. There were quite a few ways that Harry could think of to counter that argument. He didn't think that telling her that their time was worth the expense would work, since she no doubt was of the opinion that they were children and therefore their frivolous activities weren't that important or valuable. He could have told her that his godfather was worth the money for the gift. He could have pointed out any number of other reasons, and he was sure that Hermione – if she had been inclined to object in the first place – would have backed him up on the immorality of using child labor in what was a potentially dangerous, disease ridden, environment.

He felt the truth was better, though. "Mrs. Weasley, if I had been inclined to spend the rest of the summer as a slave, I would have stayed with the Dursleys. I've only been one there my entire life – unless you think that it's normal for a five year old to be cooking breakfast on his own? I doubt it but, if you do, we need to have a serious discussion about child welfare and legal advances in this century."

Her took advantage of her shock to continue, not letting her get her bearings long enough to lay into him. "In any case, it is my money. If I want to hire help or purchase a present for my godfather, then that is my business. I do consider you as a maternal figure, but you are not, in fact, my mother. In spite of Lily Potter being dead, I am not now – nor will I ever – be taking applications for the position.

"Besides, I didn't hire them. I bonded them. That means that all this is costing me is the duty to look out for two friends that I would have taken care of anyway." He settled into a seat at the foot of the table and eyed them all for a moment. He had to admit, he'd forgotten how much fun it was to shock people into silence. That was usually something Genesis did, but he had always enjoyed watching the spectacle. "Weren't we going to eat?"

Slowly, the others settled into chairs. Hermione was on his left and Ron on his right. It was a subtle show of support that he was sure the others missed. Sirius had taken the head of the table, as was his privilege – it was his house, after all. The others were arrayed in no particular order.

The twins kept eying Hermione, no doubt waiting for her to launch into her SPEW nonsense. Arthur's hand kept resting on Molly's knee every time she started to speak. She quickly subsided when he did so, something Harry was grateful for. It had taken a lot for him to stand up to her like he had, the training of both lifetimes had argued against it. Arthur seemed to have realized that this was a pivotal event for him.

Ginny just spent the time pouting that she was stuck on the other side of Ron from Harry. She wanted to spend time with him, too! How else was he supposed realize that he was in love with her? Blast it all!

Finally, dinner completed, Sirius broke the awkward silence. "Harry, what do you mean by being a slave at the Dursleys?"

Harry couldn't help the little sneer that crossed his face briefly. It vanished quickly, though, when he spotted Hermione's look of concern. His voice was clipped when he spoke, since he was trying to distance himself from it by treating his own history as a mission report. "I spent the first eleven years of my life sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs. My cousin had two bedrooms – one for his toys – and there was a guest room for Aunt Marge. So, it wasn't a matter of space.

"When I was old enough to walk, I was set to doing the chores my dexterity could handle. I don't mean just picking up after myself. I picked up after myself, Dudley, Vernon and Petunia. In addition, I was started on scrubbing floors and anything else she believed wouldn't break if I did make a mistake. If I did break something... I learned, rather quickly, that her 'playful' swipes with the cast iron frying pan were painful and that Uncle Vernon had a mean right."

He watched horror slowly start to form on their faces, but continued. Years of practice allowed him to relay precise facts as if they didn't have any emotional value to him. "My cousin was encouraged to blame anything that went wrong on me. This included anything he broke, poor grades, or economic recession. His favorite pastime involved chasing me down with his friends and beating me.

"I wasn't permitted to be better than he was in school. To this end, I had no time or supplies with which to do my homework, and – if I still managed to out-perform him – I was sent to my cupboard to think about my error. I wasn't fed during this time. It usually lasted from over night, to a few days if it was the weekend, or a few weeks if it was the summer. When I was fed, it was either the leftovers of the meal I made for them or a bit of dry toast."

He let his stern gaze settle on Molly. "There is a reason why you always think I'm too thin – I only eat full meals at your home or Hogwarts. I'm sure Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs don't help in that regard, but they refused to spend any money on clothes or other necessities for me. The closest I have had to a fitting wardrobe are the Hogwarts uniforms and the sweaters that you give me every year."

He ignored her attempt to form words. He knew that he wouldn't finish if someone interrupted him. His chest felt oddly tight. "Aunt Marge's visits were a special treat for everyone. She would happily reward her bulldog for chasing me up the nearest tree and keeping me there for most of the day. I can't count the number of times that Ripper landed a bite on my legs. The wounds, by the way, were left to heal naturally or not at all. By 'naturally,' I mean that there was no antiseptic, no creams and no bandages.

"And they weren't the only things that I received no treatment for. When Dudley broke my arm, I spent the requisite six weeks with it wrapped in an old shirt, with crooked sticks for a splint. I'm rather glad that it was summer when it happened. If I'd wound up in the hospital, I would have received quite the punishment. I went a week without food when my elementary school demanded that I get the required immunizations.

"I don't know if you realize, but the twins were not exaggerating when they told you that I was being starved. I was also locked into my room with no less than six locks. There were bars on my window and what little food I did receive was passed through a cat flap installed in the door. I was let out, once a day for a maximum of five minutes, to use the toilet and wash. There are prisons with less security than my supposed bedroom had.

"I have, thanks to the Dursleys, picked up skills that no one my age should possess. I can maintain a car, paint a house, re-tile a bathroom, sterilize a living area to the point you could perform surgery, plan and prepare an eight course meal for twelve, assemble just about anything you can buy from a store, and clear plumbing clogs all the way to the main lines.

"But, Dumbledore said that I have to go back there every summer. So, I suppose their treatment of me is both acceptable and a moot point." He looked around, his vision slightly blurry. Yep. Shocking them into silence was painful, but oddly fun. Especially when he was only telling the truth. He hadn't anticipated just how... cathartic... his revelation would be for him. He was fighting to keep tears at bay.

Harry cleared his suddenly tight throat and tried to change the subject, at least temporarily. "So, who wants dessert?"

No one spoke for a long minute. Hermione and the majority of the Weasleys looked close to erupting, a la Vesuvius. Sirius seemed torn between hugging him, killing the Dursleys, and strangling Dumbledore. Not that Harry minded any of those outcomes. Ron, though, tried to save him from having to deal with his emotions all at once. "Sure, mate. I'd love some."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione beat Molly to the punch. "There are more important things than your stomach!"

Ron nodded. "Yep, like giving Harry a few minutes to realize and accept that he just told us all of that. So... What's for dessert, Harry?"

Every person at the table stopped and gaped at Ron, even Harry. Ron considering someone's feelings was like a scientist discovering a true Unified Theory. It just didn't happen. Harry noted the expressions on the faces around him, and the strangest feeling welled up in his chest. He hadn't ever experienced anything like it before. It was somewhere between panic and humor. His lips curled in to a smirk, then a grin. Then he was laughing so hard that he lost his balance and literally hit the floor.

The impact knocked the wind – what little there was in his chest – out of him. Still, his body kept trying to laugh. He couldn't stop, even as tears rolled out of his eyes and across his skin. He didn't understand why. The whole thing was just... ridiculous. His entire life was out of a bloody television abuse special! It made public safety announcements look tame by comparison! And that was before you even took his last life into account!

He dimly noticed the others in the room crowding him until Hermione snapped at them to back off and give him some room to breathe. A feat that he was attempting but – between his brief lack of a functioning diaphragm and his laughter – failing miserably at. Someone suggested a calming draught, but he was lifted into a sitting position and felt arms wrapping around him, instead. His already damp face was pressed up against bushy hair and suddenly, like a switch being triggered, he wasn't laughing anymore.

He would later admit – if only to himself – that Hermione gave far better hugs than Molly Weasley. He didn't feel like the stuffing was being squeezed out of him. He didn't feel trapped, as he could pull away and knew that she wouldn't be upset with him. No, he felt... free to feel. Like the offer of comfort was there and he could take her up on it or not.

As a result, he was uncontrollably sobbing into Hermione's hair in the first truly comforting hug he had received in either lifetime.

Finally, the emotional storm passed. Still, he kept his head buried in her neck. He was quite comfortable where he was, and it kept him from having to look at the others. He could feel their stares on him, and had no desire to face their expressions of disgust. He didn't care who the expression was aimed at – him or the Dursleys. It would still feel like it was him that they were disgusted by.

Hermione, at least, seemed to be in no hurry to pull away. One hand clenched his shirt tightly, while the other stroked his back firmly but soothingly. Her face was buried in his neck. Every now and then, there was a slight hitch in the breath tickling the skin there. It only took him a second to connect it to the dampness working its way down him. He'd made her cry.

He inwardly winced as a pang of guilt hit him, and gently pulled back. She resisted just slightly, but not enough to make him feel trapped. She didn't fight it when he pulled her across his lap and tucked her face back into where his neck met his shoulder. In fact, she nuzzled closer in and really started crying. He didn't know what to do.

Harry raised his eyes to see nothing but helplessness reflected back by the faces surrounding him. He didn't realize that they were reacting more to his revelation than his current predicament. He stroked a hand down her hair and back, the panicked tightness returning. He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to offer comfort, and no one was helping. His head fell back and his mind reached out, frantic. "_Genesis! Help me!"_

It felt like hours, but it was only moments later that Genesis teleported in. The commander was at full battle readiness, his sword bared and alert for potential threats. A fireball was already forming in his off hand when Harry broke his concentration. "Not them! This!"

The other inhabitants of the room were fortunate that they didn't suffer from heart disease or some other shock-triggered malady. If they had, there would have been a fatality or two. As it was, Tonks' wand had almost cleared its sheath when she realized that Harry had apparently summoned this... person?... The person that was now kneeling next to him and seemed to be speaking, though none of them could hear the words.

"You called me... for a crying girl?" Genesis sub-vocalized incredulously. The girl in question was still sniffling, and had her head leaning on Harry's shoulder. Hermione had tilted just enough to see Genesis. She didn't move any further, though, as she could tell that Harry didn't think him a threat. Her tears didn't stop completely, but they did slow as her mind started processing new information.

Harry was glad that Genesis pitched his voice so that only a SOLDIER could hear it. The question would have embarrassed him even more if he hadn't. He also lowered his voice to levels a normal human couldn't hear. "I don't know what to do."

"Comfort her." Genesis seemed to think that it was the most normal thing in the world.

"How?"

The Crimson Commander looked him over, noting the stroking hand and cuddled position. "You seem to be doing fine, General." His lips twitched at the scathing look Sephiroth shot him. "I'm serious. You're doing the only thing any man can do when a woman cries – hold on and hope that she calms down soon."

His blue eyes traveled around the room, noting again the locations of the others. "Where exactly are we? And, are these people an immediate threat?"

* * *

_This chapter really smacked me around a bit. I had no intentions of this being how it ended up... I'm still not particularly happy with it. But, I've been editing it repeatedly since Last TUESDAY!_

_On the number of shocked silences... The group is suffering from a variety of things: There is surprise that Harry can pull a sword from nowhere, amazement at the simplicity of his solution to the portrait, shock over his rebuke to Molly, and – finally – horror at his childhood. Add in the Bystander Effect and you have them milling about instead of comforting or helping Harry._

_I'm personally split on whether Dumbledore knew and didn't care, planned for the abuse, or didn't believe that a family could be so cruel to their own blood. You'd think he'd have recognized the signals, especially considering his interactions with Tom Riddle, Jr. Or, perhaps not. He was born in an era when children didn't have rights and such abuses were a fact of life, almost normal. The problem with living so long is that you don't adjust to the attitudes of the times. I'd love to hear some opinions on this..._

_Meanwhile, back to Harry..._

_Sephiroth had a psychotic breakdown that resulted in the destruction of Nibelheim in his last life. In this life, he actually forced himself to confront the fact that what has happened and was still happening to him is wrong. Harry, has two lifetimes of experience in it, the memories/perspectives of an adult, emotional support from his friends, and a highly analytical mind. Instead of being left alone to descend into a murderous rage when he starts to snap again, he's immediately shown caring and compassion by a friend. The result of all this? He cannot deny the truth and he manifests a healthier expression of pain._

_In canon, he suffers from neglect, psychological/emotional abuse, and physical abuse. Thankfully, there is no mention of sexual abuse. I have no desire to write that in, either. At least not in Harry's case. He has enough on his plate in this lifetime... Some of the examinations and such that Sephiroth no doubt suffered from Hojo may have been classifiable as sexual abuse. I'm not a lawyer and the technical definition may or may not fit. No doubt, it would have a similar effect on him whether it was technically sexual abuse or not._

_The abuse I added to canon – grade punishments, etc – appear in many fan fictions. These abuses are frequently are a part of the pattern when you have the other (canon) abuses. _

_Child abuse can result in delinquency, distrust of authority figures, independent or self-sufficient behaviors, self-esteem problems, poor school performance, other emotional issues such as rages and depression (and other symptoms of PTSD), immune deficiencies, impaired neurological development, and other physical health impacting, stress related issues. Many cases have an increased risk of suicide. _

_If any of that sounds familiar, that's because you see Harry exhibit most of that in canon._

_As for comforting a crying Hermione... Sephiroth had no close friends that were female, and men – especially big, bad SOLDIERs – wouldn't let each other see such emotional displays. Did he spend time with women? I'm certain that he probably did, but I doubt he connected with them emotionally. He is completely lost in this situation. Genesis at least had his parents as an example of how to behave._

_Coming up: The Order is in Dis-Order, Genesis is Genesis, and the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio are curious._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**

_Own this? Me? Seriously?_

**Note**

_I have to share this with you – as of 8.02 AM Eastern (UTC -5) on the 17th November, including everyone from AO3 and FFN, I have:_

_8682 hits, 56 Reviews, 19 C2s, 169 Favorites, 184 Followers, 1 Bookmark and 3 Kudos._

_I regrettably, have to be honest and say that it was straight addition that got me to these numbers, so there are probably duplicates in the followers, favorites, etc. Still... Wow..._

_I'll say it again, you guys rock!_

* * *

**Four**

The Order members present stared in amazement at the man kneeling next to Harry, though they were slowly recovering their composure. Tonks' wand was out and aimed straight at him. Dung Fletcher had pulled out his pipe to puff on it a bit, hoping it would settle his nerves. He was slowly inching towards the back of the group so as to be out of harm's way and to provide himself easier access to the door. Molly, Arthur and Sirius had joined Tonks in preparing to blast whoever this was out of the house.

The kids, though, were taking their cues from Harry. He didn't seem worried about the new arrival. He seemed glad to see him, in fact. Hermione was still settled across Harry's lap, and more than content to stay there. She could hear his heartbeat and it had settled into a steady rhythm. He didn't seem frightened of the man at all. She gave a little sniffle, and relaxed further into his arms. Yep, nice and comfy.

Ron was wondering, given the similar hair color, if he might be a distant relation of the Weasleys or Prewitts. If this was his supposed 'accountant' relative, he and his mom were going to have to talk about what accountants really did and how he could become one. The Twins were a little more cautious, but had settled for pulling their wands out. They weren't pointing them anywhere... yet.

Ginny, on the other hand, was frowning at Hermione in Harry's lap. She was far more concerned with _her Harry_ being so close to another female. Never mind that he wasn't hers, she was certain that he would be. After all, he had saved her from the Basilisk. It was just like in a fairytale!

The red-coated man rose to his feet and raised an eyebrow at the crowd. He tossed his hair with a flick of his fingers, looking deliberately nonchalant. "Sephiroth, is there a reason that they're pointing sticks at me?"

Harry gave a watery chuckle. He felt strangely lighter for the release of his inner tensions. Genesis' presence helped a bit, as well. "They're a lot like materia, Genesis."

"Ah." Genesis cocked his head in thought. "I suppose they'd be terribly upset if I were to break them?"

"Yep. In fact, I'm pretty sure Tonks would devour your eyeballs in a red sauce. She's a feisty one, from what I can tell." The Auror in question shifted her gaze from Genesis just long enough to glare at Harry. "See what I mean? I would prefer that you not cause them harm."

"Mm." Genesis hummed in acknowledgment. "'My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the Gift of the Goddess.'"

Harry's lips twitched. "Loveless, Act Three."

Genesis smirked at him, thoughts drifting to a happier time. "You remembered."

The twitching lips settled into a true smile. Genesis had used a different quote the first time they'd had this conversation, but it still somehow fit both their situation and their history. Given the timing of his friend's awakening, he was pretty sure Genesis' return was somehow his fault and he was asking him not to kill the people in front of him. "How could I not, when you've beaten it into my head?"

The two laughed, sharing a combination of happiness at the memory and sadness at not having Angeal to share the joke. The members of the Order eyed the two of them, wondering just why they seemed so amused. And, wondering why the bracer this 'Genesis' wore had glowing orbs in it. Some kind of artifact, perhaps?

Ron, careful not to get in front of the adult's wands, moved to Harry's side. He knelt down behind Hermione and settled one hand on her shoulder. "Harry, who is this guy?"

"An old friend, Ron." Harry lifted his hand from Hermione's back to pat his friend's arm. "A very old friend."

Genesis snorted. "I'm not that old. And, I still say that name is far too common for you."

"I rather liked it." Harry shot him a resigned look. "Until I was eleven, at least. Now, I'd rather be someone else. Again."

Genesis nodded. "A common state of affairs for you, as I recall." He turned his back on the Order members, deliberately giving them a clean shot if they wanted to try. "So, introductions?"

"Well, the waterworks in my lap is Hermione Granger..."

She lightly smacked his shoulder. "This from you, mister."

Harry smiled at her, but continued. "The red-head behind her is Ron Weasley. The twins are his brothers, Gred and Forge. Their mother over there, Molly, insists that it's actually Fred and George."

The twins grinned at his commentary as he continued, "Ginny, that's the girl standing next to Molly. Is their younger sister." He looked at Genesis, widening his eyes in mock horror. "Poor girl has six brothers... Six! Can you believe it?"

Genesis shook his head in false sympathy, but said nothing. "Molly's husband, Arthur, is the one with the receding hairline. The dark haired man is my godfather, Sirius Black. The smoker hiding in the back corner, I just met tonight: Mundungus Fletcher. He goes by Dung, as I understand it."

Genesis snorted. Harry looked to the others. "This is Genesis Rhapsodos, and I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust most of the so-called adults in this room. He, at least, offered to try and help when he saw there was a problem with my uncle... Oh, wait, he actually paid enough attention to _notice_ that there was a problem."

Faces – and wands – fell at the venom in his voice. Sirius actually went so far as to collapse into the nearest chair and bury his head in his hands. His voice was, as a result, muffled when he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Harry..."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not blaming you, you self-important mutt. You've met me a grand total of what? Three? Four times, now? And you spent more than a decade around the Dementors. I'm surprised you can still tell the floor from the ceiling, considering that experience. No, I'm blaming the ones that had the evidence and ignored it. I suppose that could exclude Dung and Tonks, too. But, as I know they spent a lot of time watching me this summer, it doesn't."

The two mentioned stared in shock that Harry had realized they were there. Genesis just quirked an eyebrow. "Your insults used to have more bite to them."

Harry lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug, a motion that Sephiroth had learned from Genesis in their last life. "I'm not really trying to insult Sirius. I rather like him."

"So, are you related to the Prewitts? Or maybe have a Weasley relative?" Ron finally broke in, his curiosity winning out over his desire to hear more of their banter. He really hoped so. This guy was just cool. He had an impressive sword, an earring and that coat was... wicked.

Genesis blinked. "You don't... feel like a relative, and I don't believe that I had any offspring."

Harry bit his lip in thought. "I don't know, Gen. It's been a long time. Who knows how diluted any trace of _Her_ would be."

Genesis blinked at the diminutive, then decided to let it pass. "It's possible, I suppose. Still, I doubt it. I did take precautions with my..." he hastily changed his wording, "dates."

Sephiroth was well aware that many of Genesis' 'dates' never made it to dinner or – sometimes – a proper bed. "If you say so. I would rather not have any more information from you on that topic." He smirked. "Unless you feel like sharing measurements?"

Genesis chuckled as Hermione whacked Harry's shoulder again. "And you called Tonks the feisty one?"

"I think it's the shock." Sephiroth hugged her lightly to let her know he was teasing. "She'll be her normal, uptight self again shortly." Hermione stuck her nose in the air with a huff, her amusement plain. "See?"

The four of them – including Ron – chuckled, and Harry lightly nudged Hermione's temple with his nose. "May I get up now?"

She blushed and scrambled to her feet, though she managed to refrain from babbling an apology. He had been the one to pull her into his lap, after all. "Certainly."

Harry stood and straightened his clothes. "Dobby!"

The elf appeared. "Yes, Master-Harry-Potter-Sir?"

If Genesis had been drinking at that moment, he would have choked. He came close, anyway. Harry ignored him. "Is there a room available for my friend? And..." He turned to his friend, "Genesis, have you eaten?"

"Ah... Not yet."

Harry looked at Dobby. "Can we do something about that?"

"Oh, yes, Master-Harry-Potter-Sir!" The little elf bounced happily, then turned to Genesis. "Does yous have luggage for Dobby to transport, Master Genesis, sir?"

Genesis blinked. He had no idea what this creature was, but it seemed to be similar to his family's household servants. Or, it was close enough for him to deal with. "My things are in my room at the Leaky Cauldron, actually. I can retrieve them..."

Dobby shook his head. "No need, sir. Dobby can have it done, quick as can be!" A snap of elven fingers had a clean place set at the table. "You refresh yourself, sir. Dobby will be looking after yous things."

Genesis fell back on his childhood experiences. As strange as this creature was, it seemed he really was a member of the household staff. "Thank you, Dobby. That would be most appreciated."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Master-Harry-Potter-Sir has the most wonderful friend. Truly great one, indeed, to thank Dobby. Dobby be getting yous room ready for you, sir."

The elf vanished. Genesis settled at the table and looked to Harry, who had taken the seat across from him. "What is... Dobby?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, I seem to have left house elves out of my update. They're... like servants, but they bond to a household. It helps them live longer, and they actually do enjoy taking care of us. Dobby seems to think that I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread... for some reason."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, you've been kind to him. You listen to him. You got rid of Voldemort for ten years. I don't want to imagine what House Elves put up with when he was around. It had to be worse than with just the Malfoys."

Harry nodded, conceding the point. "I suppose, Hermione."

The others were slowly drifting back to the table. Molly, on one hand, wanted to demand to know where Harry had met this person and how he'd gotten into the Order's headquarters. On the other hand, they seemed to know each other quite well. Which was odd, in itself. Harry had never spoken of him. Since it was obvious that they were going to have to work to regain Harry's trust, she resolved to listen and learn what she could.

Arthur was mildly amazed that he hadn't had to stop his wife from having a screaming fit. It was surprising that she wasn't demanding that Harry tell her where he met Genesis. He took a seat with a small smile. Sometimes, she still managed to surprise him.

Sirius had wound up seated next to Genesis thanks to Dobby's placement of the man's plate. His canine enhanced nose detected a sharp tang in the air. Now that he thought of it, he picked up the same scent – only stronger – from Harry. He found himself hoping that he wasn't missing something important... like a twenty-something year old man sleeping with his fifteen-year-old godson. He might have to re-think his views on using the Dark Arts, if that was the case. Maybe he shouldn't burn the portrait of Walburga yet. She'd probably have a few useful suggestions...

He would have protested his godson randomly inviting strangers to stay with him, but he had a few reasons not to. One, he wanted Harry to feel like this was his home. Two, he had the feeling that watching them interact would answer more than a few questions. Questions like why an adult male would obey a child. Three, the man seemed genuinely inclined to defend Harry. If his godson did have a loyal friend ready to fight for him... It was best that he had all the support he could get. Four, Harry trusted him.

Most people wouldn't place much stock in a child's assessment of someone's character. But, most people hadn't had to rely on that very assessment to keep from being turned over for execution.

Ron, on the other side of Genesis, had actually tugged his coat sleeve up a bit to inspect the subtly glowing orbs in the bracer on his arm. "What's this?"

Genesis, acting as if being manhandled by a stranger was a daily occurrence, finished chewing his current bite before answering. "A bracer." He glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye, letting a smirk touch his lips at Ron's indignant expression. "An Imperial Guard, to be specific."

Hermione seated herself across from Ron and herself a fresh cup of pumpkin juice. She took a sip, to moisten her throat. "And the glowing orbs?"

Genesis met her chocolate eyes with his glowing blue ones. "Materia."

She frowned. "What are they?"

"You were right, she is a scholar." He and Harry shared a chuckle while Hermione huffed. He pulled a green one out of the bracer and passed it to her. "Close your eyes and concentrate on it. Tell me what you feel."

She picked it up in her left hand. That had, after all, been the side he'd worn it on. So, she assumed that it was the correct hand to do this with. Almost the moment she closed her eyes, she felt a tingling from it. It wasn't painful. It reminded her more of the feeling of one of Madame Pomfrey's healing spells. "It feels... tingling, warm, and... like it wants to heal?"

"Hm. You have a talent for this... Observe." Genesis smiled flirtatiously at her and accepted the orb back. He pulled off his gauntlet and took a small knife from his belt. The sharp blade easily cut into his flesh. He picked up the green sphere and concentrated. Green sparkles glittered across his hand. He slotted the materia again and used his napkin to wipe the blood away. With it gone, they were treated to the sight of unblemished skin.

Hermione's head cocked to one side. "It's a spell focus, then?"

Genesis nodded. "Each materia is keyed to a different type of spell, summon, or effect. The more use a materia has seen and the more experience the caster has, the more powerful the result. After a significant amount of use, a materia will spawn a new one – essentially cloning or birthing a lower level version of itself."

Harry snorted in amusement and Genesis raised an eyebrow in query. "Sorry, just imagining the look on some poor wizard's face if a wand did that."

Even the adults at the table couldn't resist a laugh at that image. They might have laughed harder than the little bit of humor warranted, but they'd had an emotional evening and any reason to smile was welcome.

"Genesis..." Harry sub-vocalized. Seeing he had his friend's attention, he continued. "Please don't flirt with Hermione. I don't need that kind of complication right now. Feel free to flirt with Tonks or the others, though."

His friend's tiny smirk and minute nod of assent went unnoticed by the others.

* * *

He was not amused. He had no servant with the mark that he could use to call his minions to him, and he was fairly sure that the only surviving servants he did have... were ensconced in Azkaban. Worse, he had no money. A fact that made it difficult to travel, eat and even find a place to sleep. He could kill random strangers and use their homes, but he didn't want to risk drawing attention before he was prepared.

It was almost enough to send him into a fit of depression. Or, at least, make him tear his brand new hair out.

He was at a restaurant, just leaving the restroom and debating the easiest way to skip out on the check, when something irritated his nose. He sucked in a breath, then another. The violent sneeze that rocked his body triggered another part of his new anatomy. The exhale that accompanied the sneeze was a pale mist that spread around the room.

The patrons dropped like flies as every disease – known and unknown – wracked their bodies. Their immunities weren't able to handle ancient diseases that had supposedly been 'wiped out' by modern medicine. They certainly weren't able to handle so many at once. The diners turned various shades, vomited, screamed, sloughed off skin and collapsed to the ground in assorted permutations. The Dark Lord blinked, grabbed a few pieces of fruit from the kitchen for later, and slowly worked his way out of the front door across the mass of corpses.

At lest he didn't have to pay the check...

Tom Riddle, Jr was born in the 1920s. He lived in the wizarding world almost exclusively from the time he graduated Hogwarts in 1945 until his first death in 1980. This did not prepare him for modern conveniences like phones, computers and other electronics. He missed the cameras in the building that recorded the entire event. Even if he had noticed it, the recording was stored off site on a remote computer.

* * *

_Wow... So... Three chapters just covering the day of his arrival at Grimmauld... Okay... I should probably try to move this along more, shouldn't I? I'll see if I can't at least get to Harry's 'trial' next chapter._

_And, it doesn't appear that Sirius got the opportunity to hint about the Prophecy. Maybe it'll come up later._

_For those who haven't noticed – and for those who have – Dumbles hasn't commented on Harry's abrupt change yet. This is for two reasons. One, he noticed Harry's hair changing to gray in his fourth year – remember my commenting that he had gray hairs before the last task? So, the change was actually less abrupt than it could have been. Meeting Voldie would be enough to turn any teen's hair gray, right? And he's done so how many times now? _

_Two, he's under the impression that Harry is a horcrux, so he's avoiding him and probably thinks that the physical changes (height, etc.) are from Tom. He was quite a bit taller than Harry, more assertive, and his hair did have a bit of a wave in the front (remember his appearance in CoS). The changing events haven't gotten to greatly influence him yet, due to minimal exposure to the direct cause and Harry's previous isolation from the others. _

_The only ones (on Harry's side) who would have been truly affected so far are the ones that Harry socialized with on the train, and those he met during the summer. As he was being an introvert on the train and just listening to others, they didn't get the full effect of his new mind. So that means the Dursleys, Gen, and now the members and non-members of the Order that are at Grimmauld for this dinner._

_Voldie, has been laying low. His changes have only had a chance to influence the muggles. "Only," I say. As if... Her Royal Majesty, Elizabeth II has not planned any appearances – just for reference. In the background, some MI-6 or Scotland Yard peeps might investigate the oddities our dear Wizarding Dark Lord has caused. Given the Prime Minister's chats with the MoM... Well, things are going to be interesting._

_It'll really start snowballing, soon..._

_For reference, by the way, my chapters may start getting shorter if I'm to keep the same update schedule. I'm having to do my mother's share of the housework and play fetch-n-carry, since she pulled a muscle in her leg. Therefore, my uninterrupted writing time will be greatly curtailed. I apologize and hope that this improves soon._


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer_**

_If I owned this, I wouldn't write it for free._

* * *

**Five**

After dinner, Harry managed to persuade Sirius, Genesis and Hermione to meet him in the library for a private chat. Sirius placed a few wards on the door to defeat the Twin's inventions and keep the others away. Harry was glad of that, since he knew that Molly would want to know what they were talking about. She had an almost unhealthy obsession with seeing him as one of her sons.

He barely knew Ginny, and wasn't at all sure that he was attracted to her. Well, not beyond the normal teenage boy's attraction to anything that moved. He wasn't going to hold his breath on her desire becoming reality. In fact, if she kept pushing it, he was more likely to push them away. He inwardly smirked. _This moment of teenage self-awareness brought to you by having a past life._

As it was, almost moments after they had settled in and before anyone really had the chance to say anything, Sirius scowled. "Someone's already picking at the wards."

He started to stand back up, but Genesis waved him back to his seat. "Allow me." The red-coated Commander stalked to the door and opened it. He pitched his voice at almost a silky-sweet tone, far more dangerous-sounding than any yelling would ever be. "If we are interrupted again before our meeting is concluded, the person who is responsible will find him or herself a head shorter. Am I understood?"

He didn't wait for a response, closing the door and returning to his seat. He cast himself across the old-fashioned fainting couch dramatically. "Really! The nerve! Sephiroth, you have got to get a better class of minion."

"Friends, Gen, not minions." They shared a smirk and Harry continued, "They're just concerned and curious. I seem to remember a certain ginger Commander trying to hack into various departmental files to find out exactly where his friends were going on confidential missions... You might know him?"

Genesis let his lower lip stick out in a pout for a moment, then grinned. "All right, enough of this hilarity. What do you need?"

Harry let a smile touch his lips and leaned back in his seat. "As some of you know, I am being brought up on charges of underage magic use. Specifically, I was supposed to have used my wand to defeat the Dementors that attacked me this summer. As I did not use a wand or any other Ministry regulated and/or tracked device, I want to know precisely how I can get out of this. In particular, any loopholes in the law that could be used to humiliate whoever it is that is trying to get me expelled."

Hermione grumbled about frame-ups and the likelihood of a kangaroo court. The others ignored her mutters, recognizing that she needed to get it out of her system.

In the meantime, Sirius was chuckling. "You have them on so many levels, kiddo. It's almost not funny. One, you were entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The new rules they set up stated that you had to be seventeen. In effect, a legal adult. Two, you're the Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. You were automatically emancipated on your fourteenth birthday as the last of your line – no paperwork required. There are some things that emancipation doesn't apply to – you still have to complete your schooling and can't take your seat on the Wizengamot – but, the Reasonable Restriction is waived as a result."

Harry cocked his head. "What does the law state about remembering past lives?"

Sirius shrugged. "As long as that life ended after your seventeenth birthday, you'd be emancipated for that. Of course, that one does require Ministry verification. Once that's done, your legal age is either your age in your last life – plus the number of years since you've remembered – or your current age, whichever is higher. Your emancipation would be backdated to the day you remembered that life. Your birth date remains the same, though."

Hermione shook her head. "That sounds hopelessly cumbersome. How do they verify it?"

Sirius smiled at her. "It's a simple spell, actually. It shows the birth and death dates for all remembered lives, records the legal age and date of recall, and then updates the Ministry records. Finally, the spell creates identification for you to present if – or when – you need. Of course, it's only legal if done by an employee of the Ministry." He turned to Harry. "Why the question, pup?"

Harry laughed. "Because, in the only other life I can remember, I died at twenty-two. And again at twenty-seven and twenty-nine. If they go by my age at my last death, then that means that my legal age is now almost thirty. Since I remembered all of that this last year."

Sirius blinked at him. His godson remembered a past life. He opened his mouth and closed it. Harry died multiple times in that life. Sirius had no idea how that was possible. The Dark Arts, maybe? He uncomfortably shifted in his seat. He really didn't want to know if that was the case, so he decided not to ask.

Sirius rolled the rest of it around in his mind. His godson was a thirty-year-old man in a fifteen-year-old body. Three separate reasons to be considered an adult. The Ministry would be humiliated beyond belief. He eyed Harry, an evil smirk starting to play around his lips. "I'm actually rather delighted to bring this up... But, Arthur Weasley is a Ministry employee. Wanna add a third spell to the scroll of humiliation?"

The wicked smile Harry gave him was the very same one he'd worn at the burning of Nibelheim.

* * *

Harry and Arthur made their way into the Ministry of Magic. The fireplaces roared and spat out workers in gouts of green flame. He absently noted the statue and the ridiculous tiling on the walls, ceiling and floor. The semi-controlled chaos and ostentatious decor reminded him of the lobby in Shin-Ra tower at the height of the company's power.

They passed through the checkpoint and boarded the lift. Soon, they were plummeting to the lower levels and Harry was left outside of the courtroom. He inwardly rolled his eyes at Arthur's attempt to be reassuring. If he hadn't already had a plan, he would have been nervous as hell. Arthur's faith in the goodness of people would not have helped. 'Truth will out,' indeed.

Not that the General in him would ever go into an ambush like this without a plan.

He strode inside with his back straight and head held high. He settled in the 'prisoner's seat' with all the dignity of a king sitting on his throne, then calmly nodded his acknowledgment to the officials present. Confidence was key when facing the enemy. The appearance of superiority was half the fight.

Fudge, not having expected him to be here thanks to the change in time, fumbled a bit before calling the meeting to order. The following events were a farce. A few questions, no chance to provide his own statement, and the man tried to call for a vote? Harry cleared his throat. "I believe it is traditional to permit the accused to mount a defense. Unless, you want this to look like the despotic mockery that it currently resembles."

A toad-faced woman to Fudge's right interjected. "How dare you!?"

He quirked an amused eyebrow. "I thought we were supposed to be honest in a courtroom. That is my honest opinion of the behavior of this court so far."

Another woman, wearing a monocle, spoke. "Madam Umbridge, Minister – he is correct. He has a right to present his case."

Umbridge huffed, but subsided. Fudge grumbled, but gathered himself. "Very well. Defend your actions, if you can."

Harry gave a slight bow, then turned to the monocle-wearing woman. "A few questions on the law, if I may." At her nod, he continued. "I apologize for not knowing your name, Madam. But, the Reasonable Restriction – does it include magic done without a wand?"

"No, Lord Potter, it does not. Accidental magic is precisely that. Also, it is the position of the Ministry that no one in your age group has the control of their magic required to perform true wandless magic." Her gaze pierced him. "Also, I am Madam Amelia Bones."

"Thank you, Madame Bones." Harry gave an thoughtful look. "In my age group... Only an adult can perform wandless magic?"

"That is correct." Bones smiled, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning.

"So," Harry shifted to get comfortable and settled one of his ankles on the opposite knee. "If I were to conjure fire or something similar – right now – would that legally be accidental magic, or would I be an adult?"

She was starting to get a bit impatient, and so was the Minister. Fudge's voice broke in. "It would be accidental. Your point, Mister Potter?"

"That's 'Lord Potter,' Minister." Harry casually created a trio of fireballs and juggled them back and forth between his hands, ignoring their horrified expressions. Umbridge's face was the most amusing, though. She looked like he'd just threatened to tear her spine out through her mouth: face pale and eyes bulging even further out of their sockets. "Mostly curiosity. You see, this trial was illegal in the first place. As the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, I was automatically emancipated on my fourteenth birthday. According to the rules that the Ministry required for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was declared a legal adult by the Ministry, three schools of magic, and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. And, by the remembrance of my past life during the last task, I am legally almost thirty years old."

He dispelled the fireballs. In a fluid motion, he stood and pulled out the identification card that proved his claim to a prior life. He walked over to the bench and passed it to Madame Bones. She examined it, then passed it back to him. She confirmed its authenticity for the others.

"I did not use my wand to combat the Dementors – I am willing to provide pensieve memories of their presence – I used wandless magic. Even if I had been a child, I would have been well within my rights to do anything and everything to protect myself. As I was an adult... Well, that's what makes this whole trial so ridiculous. Even if you argue that you weren't aware of the past life, you were perfectly aware of the other two reasons I am now considered legally an adult."

Fudge started to speak, but Harry steam-rolled over him. "As for performing magic in front of a muggle: The muggle in question is my maternal cousin. The boy resides in the same household that I do, and is perfectly aware of my attendance at Hogwarts. I can only assume the Ministry condones this knowledge, as Madame Hopkirk has sent at least one Howler to that location. If my muggle family was not supposed to be aware of the Wizarding World, then she – and, by extension, the Ministry – is guilty of violating the Statute of Secrecy."

The room was in a quiet uproar as murmurs broke out. None of the dark supporters had considered that he would be aware enough of the law to point out their legal fallacies. This threw all their plans and a great deal of their political power into question. All it would take was one article and the public would be wondering just what the hell their leaders were playing at. They would have to spin this carefully.

The light supporters were pleased, as this meant he wasn't the bumbling child that had been shown in the Daily Prophet. They might have a successor for Dumbledore, after all. The neutrals – Madame Bones included – were busily considering the political ramifications of a Boy-Who-Lived that was more cunning than expected. Bones, herself, was regretting that Susan wasn't closer to the boy.. man. It would be a good match.

Umbridge looked like she'd swallowed whichever ancestor was the amphibian. He hated to realize that he'd ruined her day... no, wait. He didn't. He was deliriously pleased to have thwarted the plans of such a condescending woman.

The Minister grumbled and called the room back to order through prodigious use of his gavel. He practically growled that Harry was cleared of all charges.

Harry, however, was not finished. He spoke before the Minister and his sycophants could flee the room. "Madame Bones, I have a few issues to bring before the Wizengamot. Since you're all here...?"

He continued when she indicated that he could. "I have two matters I would like to address. The first, is that my godfather – Sirius Orion Black, Lord Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black – never received a trial. Yet, for some reason, this scion of a pureblood House was left to rot in Azkaban for thirteen years and currently has a Kiss-On-Sight order for escaping a facility in which he was never legally incarcerated. I feel that this sets a dangerous precedent for all members of this society."

The purebloods in the room were outraged. This was the first they'd heard of the issue, as Fudge hadn't even mentioned it to the Wizengamot. Judgment committees had been convened after the fall of Voldemort. The panels had been kept small and the trials quick so that they could get the business over with. As multiple committees had met at once time, no one person had been present for all of them. That a pureblood noble had been allowed to slip through the cracks horrified them.

It wasn't because it was wrong, but because they were afraid that it would happen to them.

As Fudge was incoherent, Madame Bones spoke. "All in favor of bringing Sirius Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, in for trial and temporarily rescinding the Kiss-On-Sight order?"

The vote was unanimous. She turned back to Harry. "And your second order of business, Lord Potter?"

He smirked up at her. "Where do I register for an Apparition license?"

At that moment, the doors blasted open. "Witness for the Defense: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!"

Harry turned to face him. "You're a little late, Headmaster. The trial is over. I was acquitted. We're just wrapping up some other business."

Dumbledore raised both his eyebrows, but Madame Bones spoke first. "You may register on the fifth floor, Lord Potter."

He turned back to her and gave a polite bow. "Thank you, Madame Bones."

The Wizengamot filed out. Harry was surprised when Dumbledore just left him there. _Not even a well done? Or a question of how I did it?_

* * *

_Poor Dumbles... He's still about twenty or thirty pages behind the rest of us! Still, we'll see how that changes._

_I hope the initial Fudge smack down was what everyone was hoping it would be? Sadly, he'll still be Minister for a while. Why? Because, I feel like torturing him. Umbridge, too._

_Still not really happy with the planning and courtroom scenes. Felt like I crammed far too much explanation in one and made the courtroom scene too easy. Ah well. I did my best on them._

_There would have been more to this chapter, but I burned my pinkie finger pulling the turkey out of the oven on Thursday. Then, on Friday, my mother's dog decided that twelve years was enough of a lifespan. My husband and I dug a grave and collapsed, exhausted. As Friday is usually my 'final edit' day, that put me a bit behind. So, you get the scenes that I feel were polished enough. The rest of the scenes will be in the next chapter._


	6. Chapter 6

**Note**

_I don't know where I found time to even do this much. It was somewhere in between my mother's dog dying, her going into the hospital (they think it's cancer - again), finding out we needed $1500 to fix the car and my getting sick. (I don't know if it's a cold or the flu, yet. I'm just plain miserable and have been for three days now.) I apologize if this isn't up to my usual standard, but – as you can see – I'm a bit distracted._

* * *

**Six**

When Harry returned to the House of Black, there was a small party to celebrate his victory at the Ministry. He was quite happy to explain just how he'd won his case. Sirius was practically crowing in his joy at the Ministry's defeat. There was a lot of laughter as he described the look on Umbridge's face when he juggled the fireballs.

Harry enjoyed the conversation and found great amusement in the Twins antics. They tried to prank just about everyone. Their apparition skills were put to the test when they pranked Genesis. He retaliated by teaching them his favorite game: Dodge Fireball. He, of course, was the only one pitching them.

In between his snickers, Harry spent most of his time dispelling fireballs before they could hit any of the innocent bystanders or set the house on fire.

Finally, the party ran down and Genesis was relaxing in a corner with a bit of cake. The twins had collapsed – panting and exhausted – in the opposite corner. They gratefully accepted the pumpkin juice their sister brought them, only to be gotten with one of their own pranks. They were too tired to do much more than promise retribution when they discovered their multicolored skin.

Being moderately exhausted by his already long day, Harry returned to his room to relax and nap for a while. Sirius had overridden Molly's commands and given each of the kids their own room, since Dobby and Winky had cleaned all the bedrooms out that first night. She wasn't pleased, but he insisted that growing boys needed their privacy to 'relieve their tensions.' Harry spent a significant amount of brainpower forcing himself to think about anything other than what Sirius meant by that. In his opinion, Molly Weasley and anything sexual should never be mentioned in the same country, much less the same sentence.

He had just pulled on a pair of black silk sleep pants with silver piping – a thoughtful birthday gift from Genesis who obviously remembered his tastes – and pulled the covers back. That the gift was purchased with money he'd given his friend didn't matter. He was more than pleased with the sentiment alone. There was a knock on the door, interrupting his contemplation. With a mental shrug, he flopped into the bed. "Come in."

Genesis stepped into the room. His sub-vocalization wouldn't be picked up by anything the wizard's had, not even the Twin's inventions. "The little scholar is asking questions. She wants to know how I know you and who you once were."

Harry leaned back against his pillow, absently playing with a lock of his own hair. Absently, he pondered why he never seemed to get split ends. Outwardly, he just smirked. "Let her ask. I have yet to see anything in this world that indicates knowledge of us."

Genesis nodded. "True. Even so, I think we should keep an eye on things. If we are 'outed' as former villains, then who knows what they will do." He shook his head. "Modern humans have become even more narrow-minded than they were."

Harry nodded. "I know. So many spells that could be used for other things are banned simply because of the uses that they have been put to. Others, are treated like jokes. I could permanently blind someone with Lumos Maxima, Mobilicorpus someone off a cliff or use Diffendo to remove a head. Why aren't they restricted? Why isn't all magic restricted?"

Genesis shrugged. "Because they are convenient for everyday things, no doubt."

Harry snorted. "I suppose."

* * *

The next morning, he jogged lightly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He had had a good night. No strange dreams and no nightmares. Had he been aware of the quiet hum under his breath, he would probably been embarrassed. As it was, the hum ended as he laughed at the cover of the Daily Prophet sitting at the table. The headline was perfect.

He sat down, idly thanking Dobby for the cup of tea and plate that appeared on the table, and started reading:

**_Fudge Fudged Charges Against Potter and Black!  
_**_By Rita Skeeter_

_Every man, woman and child in the Wizarding World is aware of two fundamental laws. The first is the Statute of Secrecy, which bars the unreasonable and militant muggle populace from attempting to interfere with our lives. The second is the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which bars our children from practicing their magic out of school. According to the Minister's Office, Harry Potter violated both._

_What our esteemed Minister failed to tell us – and the Wizengamot – is that Lord Potter was already emancipated at the time. A fact that our noble Wizengamot should have already been aware of, as he was emancipated primarily under the laws applying to the sole heir of an Ancient and Noble House._

_In fact, Lord Potter is considered and adult three times over... Once, for his heir status. Again, for his participation in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, where the rules stated that only someone over the age of seventeen could participate and he was compelled to do so by the Ministry, three schools of magic and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. And, finally, for having remembered a past life – a life where he died at the age of twenty-nine._

_Who was he? The Boy-Who-Lived hasn't revealed this information. Nor has he disclosed the circumstances of his life and death. However, you can be assured, my dear readers, that we will faithfully report when he does._

_As for Minister Fudge, he is still in office. A two-thirds majority of the Wizengamot or a unanimous vote by Department Heads is required to unseat the Minister between elections. Otherwise, the Minister would have to step down of his own accord. That may be his best choice politically._

_Why? Because his office has been fully aware of a second issue facing the judiciary, yet has failed to provide all relevant information to the Wizengamot. The issue is the supposed conviction of Lord Sirius Black. Yes, I wrote 'supposed' there, my dear readers. The Scion and Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black never received a trial, was not questioned by law enforcement, and was not even given the courtesy of a barrister. _

_He was summarily thrown in Azkaban without even a hint of due process._

_His initial incarceration was during the reign of former Minister Bagnold. However, when the evidence was brought to our current Minister, he refused to re-examine the case. He even went so far as to insist that the witnesses to a living Peter Pettigrew had been confunded. _

_That's right. Peter Pettigrew, awarded a posthumous Order of Merlin, is alive. And, Lord Potter contends, he was a Death Eater. "Sirius," he says, "was a decoy so that the true Secret Keeper wouldn't be found. Unfortunately, he ran straight to Voldemort once he had the power to do so... I don't know why my parents didn't ask him to just roll up his sleeve. It would have saved their lives."_

_Which brings us to another question, dear reader, and one I would like to hear your opinions on: Should we average citizens be able to demand that anyone roll up their sleeve to check for the Dark Mark? Or should that be strictly Ministry Business?_

_See also: _

_Emancipation and the Law, p2_

_Sirius Crimes: the Ministry and Lord Black, p3_

_Due Process: How It's Supposed To Work, p4_

Harry chuckled as he finished the article. It was much better to have Rita Skeeter stirring up trouble for you, rather than the reverse. Far, far more entertaining. He folded the paper and took another sip of tea before starting in on his eggs. _Letting her cling to my robes during the trial was a fantastic idea... Thank you, Hermione._

* * *

_On an interesting note, Final Fantasy VII was released in 1997. Japan's release was in January, and the North American version in September. I had the original PS One and the old PC version. A newer updated PC version was released earlier this year, for those who are interested. It's a pretty decent revamp of the older PC version. Not what I'd call spectacular, but the polygons are clear instead of fuzzy on an HD screen._

_For reference – when it pops up and asks for your SquareEnix account for validation, make sure that you click on "Sign in through Square-Enix North America" if your account is on that website. Otherwise, you will be directed to create an account through the European server and have a heck of a time getting it fixed._

_You can thank Zesiro Cross on FFN for the suggestion about Rita, I know I do!_

_Fudge – in this case – means to: "Present or deal with (something) in a vague, noncommittal, or inadequate way, esp. so as to conceal the truth or mislead." Thank you, Google, for the precise definition. I was not looking forward to having to define it in my own words – especially while on cold meds._


	7. Chapter 7

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I'm sorry to say that I've written about four paragraphs this week, but have been unable to write any further. It's not through lack of interest, and definitely no one's fault here.

My mother has been diagnosed with Grade IV metastatic endometrial cancer. This means that it started in one place (her uterus) and has spread to her lungs and the bones in her spinal column. As I'm sure you have guess, the prognosis is not good. The typical survival rate from diagnosis is 6 to 8 months. Add in that she's 73 years old...

I am sorry. I will return to writing when I can. It may be a while, however. When I do, I will replace this note with the new chapter.

Thank you for all your support,

AnnaDruvez


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